Haven't seen much of my two little munchkins the last few days. Mr G brought them home from his sister's last night and they were both asleep. This morning, M woke up at about 5am needing a drink. Mr G went downstairs to oblige while I cuddled up to my little boy. He likes to play this game where he points to your nose, eyes, mouth, hair etc. He was just gazing at me and chuckling away behind his blue dummy as I played along. Then, after gulping down his ovaltine chocolate, he did his "Mummy" / "M" game. He says "Mummy" in a certain tone, I say his name back in the same tone and he leads. He loves it. Then, he rubs his chubby little cheeks against my face and kicks me in the belly. Yow! He's a little bundle of mischievous fun and makes me laugh so much. He'll go a long way with that kind of charm!
Little J appears, tousled and sleepy at about 6am and immediately puts her head on my belly, then lifts my PJ top to examine the dressings. "Your tummy is sore so we need to look after you, Mummy. I'll be a superstar. Mummy, I missed you," she says, planting a kiss on my lips. I wanted to grab hold of her and pull her into bed. She's 3 and weighs 3.5 stones - the height of your typical 5 year old in this town. I can hardly lift the kettle let alone her. She climbs into the middle of the bed and cuddles right up. Bless her. She's such an astute little girl and has seen me in some right old states - physically and emotionally. For ages after Mum dies, whenever I was sad, she'd cuddle me and ask if I was missing "Grandma with the angels". She was 2! I'm so proud of the way she will so naturally go to anyone in apparent distress and attempt to comfort them - adult or child. I see this look on her face - she's trying to make sense of things and is hampered by her 3 year old parameters. Yet she's so loving and so accepting of things. I am so lucky.
This weekend might be hard going for me physically - the sheer effort of standing up and bending down knackers me! My blood pressure is very low which doesn't help and the pain killers make that moreso. But I am so lookng forward to having some time with them and getting some degree of normality back. This operation has been hanging over us for ages. Now it's done and we can start moving on with our lives. I hadn't realised how poorly it was making me feel but now it's out, I already feel better.
Friday 14 May 2010
Thursday 13 May 2010
I made it - hurray!
Okay, so the last entry was allegedly the day before the operation. Or so we thought..... I went in as planned at 7.30am and was still sat, gowned up and ready at 5pm with IV fluids due to dehydration! The op was cancelled because some poor soul had been in theatre for 6 hours that morning.
I was given 12th May as an alternative. I was convinced something would go horribly wrong and struggled to be brave in front of the children. Oddly enough, this experience was really different. The people on the ward were different and there were 2 other women having the same op. The 6 of us in there had a fabulous time chatting and it really helped! Went to theatre at 11.45am and got chatting to the nurse on reception expecting her 3rd baby. It was when I went in to the anaesthetic room that I began to lose the plot slightly. Once on the bed, I burst into tears! The blokes were very kind, giving me tissues etc. I was still sobbing as they injected the drugs. And then that curious nothingness. Oblivion. The thing that scared me most of all was actually not scary at all....because I woke up. The clock in front of my face said it was 2.15pm. Had quite a bit of morphine for post operative pain and my blood pressure obviously had kept them entertained as I was dimly aware during the handover of the nurse saying how many doses of ephedrine I'd needed to bring it back up again. It was still only 98/45 in recovery - I checked. I could never be a drug addict; my blood pressure doesn't cope well with opioids. A mere sniff of the stuff and I'm practically on the floor.
Was a complete space cadet when I got home last night. Woke enough to eat some tea and babble to P on the phone but the rest is hazy. Today, the children are at their Auntie C's and Mr G will bring them home when he finishes work. Have spent the day in my PJs, done some laundry but mostly lazed about feeling muzzy and very sore. I have 4 wounds with stitches and even though they aren't big, they are sore. Then there's the actual site of the missing bit that's sore; then there's the after effects of the carbon dioxide they pump into your abdomen to open it up. The gas has to disperse and it hurts all the way to the shoulder tip! Minor stuff, but I'm a crap patient and hate being remotely incapacitated.
Tomorrow I'm off to see the GP about the depression/anxiety stuff. It's the anxiety episodes being most tricky - the crippling fear, seeing death and danger everywhere. It makes me someone I don't like very much and it makes me cross and jumpy with the kids. I don't want to be in hyperdrive all the time. I don't want to be scared to go to sleep in case I don't wake up (how bonkers is that?!). So we'll see what he reckons this time. In terms of depression, I'm faring quite well. It's May, the days and nights are lighter. I think the seasonal element is a definite factor. Plus, there's been a lot of happy stuff going on. And I made it through an operation my constant companion told me repeatedly would see me off. I get to have lovely snuggles with my little ones soon. And with my husband!
I was given 12th May as an alternative. I was convinced something would go horribly wrong and struggled to be brave in front of the children. Oddly enough, this experience was really different. The people on the ward were different and there were 2 other women having the same op. The 6 of us in there had a fabulous time chatting and it really helped! Went to theatre at 11.45am and got chatting to the nurse on reception expecting her 3rd baby. It was when I went in to the anaesthetic room that I began to lose the plot slightly. Once on the bed, I burst into tears! The blokes were very kind, giving me tissues etc. I was still sobbing as they injected the drugs. And then that curious nothingness. Oblivion. The thing that scared me most of all was actually not scary at all....because I woke up. The clock in front of my face said it was 2.15pm. Had quite a bit of morphine for post operative pain and my blood pressure obviously had kept them entertained as I was dimly aware during the handover of the nurse saying how many doses of ephedrine I'd needed to bring it back up again. It was still only 98/45 in recovery - I checked. I could never be a drug addict; my blood pressure doesn't cope well with opioids. A mere sniff of the stuff and I'm practically on the floor.
Was a complete space cadet when I got home last night. Woke enough to eat some tea and babble to P on the phone but the rest is hazy. Today, the children are at their Auntie C's and Mr G will bring them home when he finishes work. Have spent the day in my PJs, done some laundry but mostly lazed about feeling muzzy and very sore. I have 4 wounds with stitches and even though they aren't big, they are sore. Then there's the actual site of the missing bit that's sore; then there's the after effects of the carbon dioxide they pump into your abdomen to open it up. The gas has to disperse and it hurts all the way to the shoulder tip! Minor stuff, but I'm a crap patient and hate being remotely incapacitated.
Tomorrow I'm off to see the GP about the depression/anxiety stuff. It's the anxiety episodes being most tricky - the crippling fear, seeing death and danger everywhere. It makes me someone I don't like very much and it makes me cross and jumpy with the kids. I don't want to be in hyperdrive all the time. I don't want to be scared to go to sleep in case I don't wake up (how bonkers is that?!). So we'll see what he reckons this time. In terms of depression, I'm faring quite well. It's May, the days and nights are lighter. I think the seasonal element is a definite factor. Plus, there's been a lot of happy stuff going on. And I made it through an operation my constant companion told me repeatedly would see me off. I get to have lovely snuggles with my little ones soon. And with my husband!
Tuesday 27 April 2010
Feeling the Fear....again
April's been quite a month! We had a wonderful honeymoon extended due to an Icelandic volcano by almost a week. I managed one day of scuba diving before a bad ear stopped play.
The scuba review in the swimming pool went incredibly well! They were very thorough; made me cover every single element. I managed the mask removal underwater and replacement, clearing etc. Kit removal, buoyancy checks, CESA and all of it without panic.
First dive in Egypt was a tad different. I jumped in the sea and had a minifreak. Hyperventilation, thoughts of impending death by reckless hobby, flashbacks of uncontrolled ascent. Oh boy. Omar, the instructor, was obviously wondering who this woman was! That first dive challenged me beyond reason. I had said to my good husband that I had no desire to go beyond 10m. We got to 18.7m and still weren't quite there..... it was so clear, so many fish, moray eel etc. I was too strung out to appreciate it. And there it is in a nutshell. That's what life becomes - treading water and being unable to see beyond the discomfort, dread and impending doom. The second dive was a total contrast. I was still scared but not disabled by it. My buoyancy was fine, everything was great. I was raring to go, fuelled by a potential wreck dive at Ras Mohammed. Got in the sea the next day for my third dive and couldn't equalise my left ear. I was in a lot of discomfort. After 3 attempts and failing to get beyond 10m I had to surface and go back to the boat with metaphorical daggers stabbing my ear, a mouth full of blood and tears and snot everywhere. Thank goodness for lovely diving instructors who mopped me up and made me a nice cup of tea....and then tossed me a snorkel! These things happen; I was just over a cold and obviously still congested. We still managed to have a great time even though Joe and I never really got to dive together in a coupley kind of way. Never mind....another time.
We thoroughly enjoyed having time to ourselves and the really good part was the sadness at leaving paradise was cancelled out by the excitement of seeing our two little ones again. I'll talk about the Lithuania flight another time....
So - tomorrow is another big day. Well, for us at least. I get to have my gall bladder removed. Looking back, I've been having problems since my early 20s but it was always put down to a stomach ulcer. However, 2 weeks after M was born I had my first episode of biliary colic and entered the big league in the world of pain. Central epigastric pain, through to my back, over my shoulders and this feeling of immense pressure all round my chest to the point where I felt I couldn't breathe. The very definition of agony, like a red haze. Everything else fades away. There is only pain. And then the puking....which is such a relief because then the pain begins to recede. Have had 3 more episodes since then and each time it's been terrifying. A gastroscopy and ultrasound later and duodenal/pancreatic cancer was ruled out. Thank whichever deity is listening.
So the operation is in the morning. Hopefully a laparoscopic procedure but potentially an open one. If it's the former, I'll be home the same day and out of action for 4-6 weeks. If it's the latter, I'll be in for 2-3 days and out of action for quite a bit longer. Now - anaesthesia. How out of control can one be? I am a control freak and it really scares me. I see signs; I see all pointers towards bad things. I'm bad with general anaesthetics, well all anaesthetics, really. My body senses drugs and my blood pressure drops like a stone. I'm very overweight. Long and short of it is I'm terrified of being put to sleep and not waking up again. The thought of walking away from my family at 7am tomorrow and seeing my little girl's face looking so forlorn is enough to reduce me to tears. I know it needs doing; I know it's a routine operation. I am such a wuss when it's me. And I see doom everywhere at the moment, even in the simple act of driving.
I never used to be this frightened. Some of it is about being a mum - that protective instinct heightening the sense of danger. Some of it is about being nearly 38 and being more aware of risk. Some of it is about having lost people and knowing that it can and does happen. And then there's my companion lurking beneath the surface of my consciousness, filling me with irrational thoughts and fear. Fear is very powerful . It changes everything; it changes people; it makes the picture go wrong; it distorts reality.
I love my family so much and I owe it to them to be well. So tonight, we're going to snuggle up and watch a film, have stories and I am going to cuddle them hard. Tomorrow, I will smile and be brave - reassuring them I'll be home either later on or on Friday. I'll get this damn thing done and get well - because then the future is wide open for us all again.
The scuba review in the swimming pool went incredibly well! They were very thorough; made me cover every single element. I managed the mask removal underwater and replacement, clearing etc. Kit removal, buoyancy checks, CESA and all of it without panic.
First dive in Egypt was a tad different. I jumped in the sea and had a minifreak. Hyperventilation, thoughts of impending death by reckless hobby, flashbacks of uncontrolled ascent. Oh boy. Omar, the instructor, was obviously wondering who this woman was! That first dive challenged me beyond reason. I had said to my good husband that I had no desire to go beyond 10m. We got to 18.7m and still weren't quite there..... it was so clear, so many fish, moray eel etc. I was too strung out to appreciate it. And there it is in a nutshell. That's what life becomes - treading water and being unable to see beyond the discomfort, dread and impending doom. The second dive was a total contrast. I was still scared but not disabled by it. My buoyancy was fine, everything was great. I was raring to go, fuelled by a potential wreck dive at Ras Mohammed. Got in the sea the next day for my third dive and couldn't equalise my left ear. I was in a lot of discomfort. After 3 attempts and failing to get beyond 10m I had to surface and go back to the boat with metaphorical daggers stabbing my ear, a mouth full of blood and tears and snot everywhere. Thank goodness for lovely diving instructors who mopped me up and made me a nice cup of tea....and then tossed me a snorkel! These things happen; I was just over a cold and obviously still congested. We still managed to have a great time even though Joe and I never really got to dive together in a coupley kind of way. Never mind....another time.
We thoroughly enjoyed having time to ourselves and the really good part was the sadness at leaving paradise was cancelled out by the excitement of seeing our two little ones again. I'll talk about the Lithuania flight another time....
So - tomorrow is another big day. Well, for us at least. I get to have my gall bladder removed. Looking back, I've been having problems since my early 20s but it was always put down to a stomach ulcer. However, 2 weeks after M was born I had my first episode of biliary colic and entered the big league in the world of pain. Central epigastric pain, through to my back, over my shoulders and this feeling of immense pressure all round my chest to the point where I felt I couldn't breathe. The very definition of agony, like a red haze. Everything else fades away. There is only pain. And then the puking....which is such a relief because then the pain begins to recede. Have had 3 more episodes since then and each time it's been terrifying. A gastroscopy and ultrasound later and duodenal/pancreatic cancer was ruled out. Thank whichever deity is listening.
So the operation is in the morning. Hopefully a laparoscopic procedure but potentially an open one. If it's the former, I'll be home the same day and out of action for 4-6 weeks. If it's the latter, I'll be in for 2-3 days and out of action for quite a bit longer. Now - anaesthesia. How out of control can one be? I am a control freak and it really scares me. I see signs; I see all pointers towards bad things. I'm bad with general anaesthetics, well all anaesthetics, really. My body senses drugs and my blood pressure drops like a stone. I'm very overweight. Long and short of it is I'm terrified of being put to sleep and not waking up again. The thought of walking away from my family at 7am tomorrow and seeing my little girl's face looking so forlorn is enough to reduce me to tears. I know it needs doing; I know it's a routine operation. I am such a wuss when it's me. And I see doom everywhere at the moment, even in the simple act of driving.
I never used to be this frightened. Some of it is about being a mum - that protective instinct heightening the sense of danger. Some of it is about being nearly 38 and being more aware of risk. Some of it is about having lost people and knowing that it can and does happen. And then there's my companion lurking beneath the surface of my consciousness, filling me with irrational thoughts and fear. Fear is very powerful . It changes everything; it changes people; it makes the picture go wrong; it distorts reality.
I love my family so much and I owe it to them to be well. So tonight, we're going to snuggle up and watch a film, have stories and I am going to cuddle them hard. Tomorrow, I will smile and be brave - reassuring them I'll be home either later on or on Friday. I'll get this damn thing done and get well - because then the future is wide open for us all again.
Thursday 8 April 2010
hard to imagine
On a beautiful day like today, it's hard to believe that Black Dog has ever really been here. The sun is shining, the children have been incredibly well behaved, we've had great fun playing in the park and a surprisingly successful shopping trip in town. I have been married for 6 days! It was a wonderful day, full of happiness, family, friends, proud moments and surprises. Yes - Mr G and I are off to Egypt on Saturday morning!
Tonight I'm doing my scuba review. I'm apprehensive to say the least. Last time I did any diving was August 2007 - a few short weeks before we found out M was on the way. It's a brand new club. I'm not as fit as I was in 2007. I'm heavier than I was (hello Black Dog - your lasting legacy shows). Black Dog also has a curious effect on my self esteem, confidence in my ability and my tendency to see death and danger everywhere. So perhaps "apprehensive" is a huge understatement; equivalent to K2 being a bit of a hill, or Alan Rickman doing a bit of acting here and there.
My children have just been raucously laughing as I emerged from the bathroom, belly and thighs squeezed into my 5mm wetsuit. Well I got it on....not sure I can peel it off! In fact I may wear it to theatre for my cholecystectomy in attempt to avoid DVT! How evocative the smell of neoprene. It's all getting real. In but a few short hours, I'll be attempting to put the equipment together, donning my BCD and getting into a swimming pool full of strange men. Buoyancy control, mask clearance and mask removal being the acid tests. Last time I did a refresher, after 40 minutes I was demoing mask removal and clearance to a group of kids. I can only hope tonight goes as well as that. Once we're in Egypt, I need to know I can cope without being babysat.
Hard to imagine being that far underwater again after all this time - but how silly to not even try. Hard to believe that Black Dog can be allowed so much power. It's also hard to imagine Mr G and I being alone together for a whole week without J and M. A chance of a lifetime (thanks to my wonderful brother, Mr R) which I intend to make count.
Tonight I'm doing my scuba review. I'm apprehensive to say the least. Last time I did any diving was August 2007 - a few short weeks before we found out M was on the way. It's a brand new club. I'm not as fit as I was in 2007. I'm heavier than I was (hello Black Dog - your lasting legacy shows). Black Dog also has a curious effect on my self esteem, confidence in my ability and my tendency to see death and danger everywhere. So perhaps "apprehensive" is a huge understatement; equivalent to K2 being a bit of a hill, or Alan Rickman doing a bit of acting here and there.
My children have just been raucously laughing as I emerged from the bathroom, belly and thighs squeezed into my 5mm wetsuit. Well I got it on....not sure I can peel it off! In fact I may wear it to theatre for my cholecystectomy in attempt to avoid DVT! How evocative the smell of neoprene. It's all getting real. In but a few short hours, I'll be attempting to put the equipment together, donning my BCD and getting into a swimming pool full of strange men. Buoyancy control, mask clearance and mask removal being the acid tests. Last time I did a refresher, after 40 minutes I was demoing mask removal and clearance to a group of kids. I can only hope tonight goes as well as that. Once we're in Egypt, I need to know I can cope without being babysat.
Hard to imagine being that far underwater again after all this time - but how silly to not even try. Hard to believe that Black Dog can be allowed so much power. It's also hard to imagine Mr G and I being alone together for a whole week without J and M. A chance of a lifetime (thanks to my wonderful brother, Mr R) which I intend to make count.
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